


The Sketchbook

by Martesh



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cap_Ironman Bingo, Community: cap_ironman, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4890136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Martesh/pseuds/Martesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had picked it up before he knew what he was doing, flipping the pages and seeing the different views of New York and its skyline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sketchbook

Tony was not at his most positive right now. 

The tower felt cramped and his workshop had nothing that caught his interest for more than a few minutes. It was awful. He glances at the latest specs for the armour but he could almost feel the listlessness creeping up his legs. 

It was time to change tracks for a while and do something else. Anything else!

He rose from the chair; waved fondly to JARVIS to save the changes he had made and started making his way up from the workshop and to the top floor.  
If he were lucky Steve would be in the main room or possibly out on the balcony or the landing pad. Probably with a sketchbook, and a multitude of pencils and charcoal looking alike, but with a subtle differences he could barely make out with his lack of knowledge.  
A lack he enjoyed. Steve would try to explain all the difference between them and flush when Tony recited them back incorrectly. Intentionally of course, he was a genius after all. 

That was a development of the situation he had not expected. 

He, Anthony Edward Stark, would be among the first to admit he was a playboy with the occasional male partner in bed, not for lack of interest but opportunity. 

And then there was Steve. 

Stupid, kind and confused Steve who made his heart speed up, and warmth spread in his chest. Well, not stupid, more like ignorant and quickly catching up Steve. 

He twitched his head to the side to in vain try to shake the thought from his head. A motion that soon should be called a habit with the high frequency he was applying it.  
He had far too many thoughts swirling around in his head without a clear goal, it was annoying and wonderful, twisting together into an emotional mess he only recognised from university. Lets not revisit that time. Pull the curtain down, stop thinking about it, you are only making IT WORSE!!!

He smashed the elevator button with far to much force; they only needed a brush of fingertips to light up (yes, he was that good). The smooth acceleration was even, as it should be, and it was a short ride up to the penthouse. Tony let out a relived breath when he stepped out of the elevator, leaving a swirling mass of affection and self-doubt behind, at least for a short while. 

The penthouse was empty, only the sun occupied the room as it stretched across the floor like an especially lazy orange cat, warming the wooden floor and the red carpet. Pepper had not liked the red carpet; she wanted the marine blue one but that fight was a victory for Tony.  
He usually lost to Pepper or ran away and did what he wanted to do, before she won the argument. A victory was therefore an awesome achievement and should be revered for what it was: The act of being the more stubborn one out of the two of them. Great accomplishment!

Toeing of his shoes and sinking his feet into the plush carpet was heaven and he deliberately, only just lifted his feet of the floor when he walked, his toes dragging across the red strands.

The kitchen was empty too, dirty coffee cups and a plate with cutlery sitting the sink, the washing machine humming along bedside, betraying the large amount of dishes used that morning. Tony looked up and watched the sun lazing across the floor at an angle. Make that lunch probably, and a coffee-break form whatever the rest of them were doing.  
The digital clock on the stove lit up for all the inhabitants of the kitchen to see that it was four o’clock in the afternoon, Sort of. He and the dust particle could now consider themselves enlightened.

It was Sunday afternoon, with no meeting or obligation to see to. Bliss. 

The kitchen island was an artwork of black granite with a tree in white marble stretching out across the island. It was catching the suns rays and reflecting them into the ceiling, only leaving out a patch of in the middle. 

A sketchbook. 

Tony was a man of many different qualities, a strong will and an intellect to match. Unfortunately impulse control was an area he was currently lacking in. it was non-existent when it came to Steve. Dammit…

He had picked it up before he knew what he was doing, flipping the pages and seeing the different views of New York and its skyline. 

One in particularly caught his attention, it was in the upper right corner and pained with a pencil, grey and small. The lined were smudged in several places, giving it a hazy look, like a memory, or the ghost of a memory.

Tony closed the book with a snap and put it firmly back down on the kitchen island and resolutely walked out of the room. Leaving it behind him.

Steve was probably out on the balcony at this time of day. He should go see if he wanted to visit the Met or another art museum. It was not like Tony had anything to do, it could be fun. 

Hopefully they had something else than smudged pencil drawings. He was not sure he could stand anymore of that today.

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting, please review.


End file.
